


A Loss To Be Mourned

by ice_hot_13



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 19:52:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice_hot_13/pseuds/ice_hot_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The owner of a North Korea diamond mine is selling diamonds to very particular customers, the profit from which poses a threat that can't be ignored. Bond, however, finds himself reluctant to hold a gun to the man in charge- the owner's son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Transparency of Windows

Bond couldn't say much about North Korea except that the windows were transparent, and therefore easy to see through. He'd only been there for a little over two weeks, two very infuriating, monotonous weeks, through which all he'd done was crouch by windows and watch the empty tables where they'd been so sure a business transaction was to take place. Nine times out of ten, they were wrong, and the chairs would remain empty all day.

The ringing of his phone gave Bond the excuse he needed to shift away from the window, letting the zoom lens of the camera fall from the window pane. He slid open the phone, leaning back against the bare wall.

"Yes?" The inside of the room was darkening as the sky outside did, shadows crawling across the wooden floor of the fourth-story room. It was empty, save for Bond and a multitude of boxes, all of which contained useless objects, from broken computer equipment and dried-out pens to cracked pictures frames and flattened binders. He knew; he'd gotten bored and had gone sifting through them, hoping for anything of interest. He'd found nothing.

"Has anything happened?" M's voice was taut with frustration. Bond sighed.

"No. Nothing." He tried-failed- to keep the irritation in his voice to a clipped minimum. Spending two weeks in dusty rooms watching nonexistent meetings was not something he enjoyed. He would have rather gone searching for the meeting schedule himself, than act on suspicions that were mostly the work of guessing.

"Keep watching. We're certain there's a transaction to take place today."  _As you said the last forty-seven times,_ Bond thought, but said nothing, merely bid her goodbye and took up his place by the window again.

This time, however, his hour of surveillance paid off. While he watched, two men sat at the table, taking out files and paperwork. Bond snapped of rounds of photos; although the documents themselves were difficult to see, he knew MI6 would be able to identify the two men.

Sure enough, after he'd returned to his hotel room and hour later, M called him with names. "I've emailed you the pictures" M was saying, as he opened the laptop sitting on the desk with one hand, "all we can tell about the contracts that were being signed was that they're related to a diamond mine."

"I see." Bond opened the picture files. "Who were they?"

"The buyer was the owner of a large business. Very wealthy." Bond clicked to the next picture. "And the seller was Colonel Moon, the son of the General. Tan-Sun Moon."

"Interesting" Bond murmured, staring down at the picture. "So I supposed I'm to follow him, is that it?"

"Exactly. Will you?" The question was merely a formality. M wanted him to. He would.

"My pleasure."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Several days later, Bond was glancing over a wine list and finding it not to his taste. This in and of itself was not surprising; Bond didn't care much for wine in general. Every now and then, he would glance up to watch Tan-Sun, who was talking to another customer, then would look back down at his phone, which remained disappointingly dark for another fifteen minutes. When the screen lit up with an incoming call, Bond snatched it up instantly.

"The schedule?" he demanded immediately. He heard M's almost inaudible sigh at his impatience.

"We know where it is." Across the way, Tan-Sun had taken out his phone and was checking the time, before slipping it back into an inside pocket of his jacket.

"And?" Bond pressed. Another sigh. Her exasperation was beginning to annoy him.

"An employee was forced to disclose the location." She said slowly. "And it's in Moon's phone."

"His phone." An object more difficult to steal could not have been found, Bond thought with disdain.

"We know why they're selling diamonds."

"I have long since ceased to ask why you don't phone me immediately with such information-" before he could protest that there hadn't been the time, M continued, "yes?"

"The buyers are all sympathizers with a group that is, by all rights, a terrorist group, bent on reuniting Korea by way of taking over the South. All money for the diamonds is given to the general, who passes it to the group, so the men can fund the terrorists, risk-free. Control of the diamond mine was wrest from the original owner, by General Moon, the colonel's father. By force." Both were silent for a few seconds. Bond heard a few clicks from a computer.

"The money is adding up fairly rapidly." M remarked finally. "We can't find the schedule anywhere else. If we could stop some of the meetings, we'd have more time to work with…it's already been three weeks, and we've made no headway" another weighted silence. "If they sell much more, the organization will by fully equipped to begin their takeover."

After M had hung up, Bond continued to watch Moon, pondering how to get his hands on the phone that held the schedule. But all his options were noisy and violent. The colonel was, as Bond had come to notice, handsome enough that Bond would feel a slight twinge of regret should it come to putting a bullet in him. Well, Bond thought, he supposed he'd get over it. The world could afford to lose the man with the gentle features, the inquisitive near-black eyes, the black hair that was almost spiked in the front and must have felt soft to the touch, the long, restless fingers and the confident posture. Appearance was all Bond knew about him- another tidbit of information he'd gained was that while the windows hid nothing from him, Tan-Sun was quite the opposite. Anything beyond that which was asthetically pleasing was unknown to Bond. But if it came down to it, Bond wouldn't let himself hesitate over pulling the trigger. It would be no great tragedy, especially if he wouldn't be missed. Certainly, the world would not mourn the loss.

All things considered, however, the agent with the overdeveloped trigger finger started thinking of any other way to achieve the goal.

After a while, it wasn't his mind's creativity that scared him… it was his own willingness to go through with the increasingly questionable methods.


	2. Methods of a questionable sort

Once Bond decided something, it would have been easier to divert a freight train than to change his view. And he'd decided that he simply  _had_  to have the schedule of meetings between the diamond owners and their hand-picked customers. The only location of the schedule made the idea ludicrous, but Bond wasn't to be dissuaded.

"Bond, there is no way in hell you could get your hands on Colonel Moon's phone. I won't allow it." M's voice had been sharp, but Bond had never been scared of her.

He would have used any of his other tactics… but thinking of Tan-Sun, for some reason, Bond found himself unable to even think of hurting him. It didn't seem possible. So his mind had overanalyzed and over-thought, and come up with a plan that was the only thing more ludicrous than the mission itself.

The blatant refusal to heed her advice landed him in the dark compound late at night, in the hang time between when most people left and when Tan-Sun Moon left. Bond had been watching him for a week, for his routine, and everything else. He would have liked to take more time, but if rumors held true, the next meeting was going to be any day.

The corridor had a wood floor, one that would have made his footsteps echo through the darkness. Nothing was moving, the only light seeping from under the office door. He stopped outside the door to Tan-Sun's office, and heard the colonel's voice, with that perfect English Bond could have sworn was better than his own. Tan-Sun was definitely on the phone. Distracted. Good. Bond opened the door, nudging it wider open by only a sliver's breadth. He caught sight of Tan-Sun's reflection in a window, and the colonel had his back to the door. Perfect.

With scarcely an audible breath, Bond slipped into the room and crossed it. The office was standard and impersonal, with just a desk, a couple chairs, bookcase and bulletin board. As the reflection had predicted, Tan-Sun was facing the bulletin board, just hanging up his phone. Bond waited until he'd slipped the phone into the pocket of his pants, then moved forward. Before Tan-Sun even glanced up, Bond had spun him around and shoved him back against the wall. For a few seconds, Tan-Sun struggled against his hold, trying in vain to push himself away from the wall, hands scrambling to shove Bond away. Bond stilled his movements with a hard shove back against the wall, and then crushed his lips against Tan-Sun's, proceeding to kiss him senseless. All at once, the effects more immediate than if earned by way of a tranquilizer, Tan-Sun's struggling stopped. Bond's shock was so absolute that he himself almost froze, but Tan-Sun's movements reminded him. Tan-Sun was kissing him back, hands trailing down Bond's arms lightly, putting up little resistance.

Hell, he was putting up  _no_ resistance, allowing Bond's tongue into his mouth without so much as a heartbeat's pause.

Bond straightened his scattered thoughts, as his mind went into near histrionics from the- well, he decided it was the total shock that his actions were met with such- again, his thoughts balked for a moment- enthusiasm, and he considered his options briefly, then chose the most likely to work. He ground his hips upward against Tan-Sun, simultaneously drawing the phone out of Tan-Sun's pocket. Tan-Sun groaned at the movement, kissing Bond harder, nails grabbing at the fabric of Bond's jacket. Once Bond had the phone secure in his own pocket, he gave one last grind against Tan-Sun, and broke away, leaving the colonel slumped against the wall, breathing hard and utterly bewildered.

0o0o0o0o0o

"How'd you get it?" M finally spoke after a long silence. Bond grinned down at the phone in his hand, then spoke into the one he held to his ear.

"I have my ways." He was pacing before the window of his hotel room, watching the sunrise spread over the skyline.

"I told you not to try." M's anger was clipped by her astonished admiration.

"But I got it."

"How?" he balked at telling her how; she'd known he would.

"Does it matter, as long as I have it now?" M pondered this. Bond wouldn't let her force him to tell, and plunged on, "and the meeting is in two days."

"Very well." The pause after her words told Bond that M wanted to know his chosen methods. His own silence told her that he wasn't about to share. "Can I count on you to use these methods again?"

Bond was silent for a few moments, staring out the window, watching shadows vanish into the light.

"I'm not certain it would be the safest route."


	3. Dangerously unstoppable

They were out of options. All their other methods couldn't divert the sale of the stolen diamonds, the proceeds of which would doubtlessly go to their terrorist intentions. Even the more extreme of their methods had fallen short- disappearing cars, stolen phones, slit tires, vanishing hotel and restaurant reservations, shorted-out electronics. Nothing, short of leveling the appointed meeting place, could stop the last meeting. Even that might not stop it, Bond thought morosely.

"And why is it so impossible?" M asked Bond when he informed her of this. He was pacing his hotel room in the early evening, dreading her next command.

"We don't know where it's taking place. The others had the location in the phone, this one doesn't. The buyer's part of some underground network. He's filthy rich." M exhaled noisily. Bond continued to pace back and forth. "It's impossible."

"Oh?" M's voice was dangerously calm. "Wasn't that exactly what I said about his phone?"

" _Damn_." Bond hissed, regret making him nearly cringe.

"Language, Bond."

"So sorry." He snapped out in clipped syllables, "And yes, I got his phone. But I'd really prefer not to resort to that again." Never again, in fact, what with the way his thoughts were reeling, even two weeks later. His methods of persuasion had left him tense and anxious, for reasons he couldn't decipher.

"Stop him. I don't care how you do it, Bond, just stop the sale." M snapped. He balked. "Do it however you got the phone. Just  _stop that sale."_

So Bond was slinking through the corridor again less than an hour later, wishing he didn't have to, while, at the same time, some sort of deep hunger was looking forward to it. Again, the compound was all-but deserted, save for Tan-Sun's office. Bond was even more thankful. He crept up to the door, eased it open. Tan-Sun stood facing a map hung on the wall, so deep in thought he didn't hear Bond's approach. He ran a hand through his black hair and sighed softly. One breath's hesitance, Bond wished he was anywhere else, then crept forward. Bond came up behind Tan-Sun, slipping an arm around his waist. Tan-Sun tensed against him, breathing becoming shallow and forced; Bond knew the man was imagining a gun held to his back. This would get him nowhere- doubtlessly, Tan-Sun was seconds from breaking out of his hold.  _Desperate_   _measures_ , Bond thought with only a twinge of regret. He slid his hand lower and roughly grabbed, hoping for a workable response. And then he felt the shiver that ran through Tan-Sun, and Bond had all the answer he needed. He'd found his persuasion; better than that, he'd found a damn good way to get what he wanted from Tan-Sun. The devilish taste for torment led his fingers across the zipper of Tan-Sun's pants, dragging it down slowly. He felt Tan-Sun's deep shudder as his hand sunk lower, drawing his other hand across Tan-Sun's stomach, and further downward. For a brief moment, frantic thoughts danced through his mind,  _what the hell am I doing, nothing is worth this, I shouldn't, shouldn't-_ then his hands found their target and everything else left his mind. This unsettled him, but he was willing to overlook it.

Trembling breaths were the only sound in the room, the moonlight falling short of where they stood. Tan-Sun wished, again, that he hadn't stayed so late by himself, and, at the same time, that same urge had prodded him into staying late nearly every night. He'd seen the flash of blue eyes, and knew full well who was behind him. 007 was known for his cold cruelty, and Tan-Sun supposed he was just being played towards some other means. But that wordless drive within him wouldn't let him refuse. How could he conceivably refuse, how? He felt hands wrap around him, and a strangled moan escaped his lips. Bond had to have some motive, was Tan-Sun's only comprehensive thought, must have. But he didn't care- he was more concerned with how Bond's hands were moving faster, and he didn't want to think about what that was doing to him.

"What do you want from me?" he managed to gasp, straining to hold on to control, which was fast slipping away in shreds, faster, faster. Bond's only response was to tighten his hold, at the same time pressing a hot kiss to Tan-Sun's neck. Tan-Sun thrust desperately into Bond's hands, groaning as Bond responded by grabbing him harder. He leaned back against Bond's chest, clenching his jaw and hoping there was nothing more in store for him.

"You've got a meeting coming up tomorrow" Bond whispered in his ear, his breath making Tan-Sun shiver. "I think you shouldn't sell to them."

"Why would I listen t-" Tan-Sun started to snap, but then Bond reminded him. Bond squeezed his hands around him, running his tongue along Tan-Sun's ear. That was why, Tan-Sun realized numbly, grinding his teeth and trying desperately, uselessly, to control himself. Bond increased the pressure, almost painfully, to a degree that sense an intense shivering of pleasure through Tan-Sun. "Fuck" he hissed through his teeth, "I- don't- please- oh- please-don't-ohhh…"

"Stop?" Bond pressed himself closer against Tan-Sun, the heat between his own legs almost obvious to Tan-Sun. He started moving his thumb in rough circles, and Tan-Sun moaned as the already high amount of heat within him mounted higher.

"Damn you…" he nearly whimpered, recoiling back against Bond, every muscle tensed. Bond laughed dryly, as Tan-Sun's whimpers became deeper moans of quiet desperation, as he thrust into Bond's hands.

"You'd do well to listen to me." He insisted quietly, moving back so Tan-Sun wouldn't be able to feel the reaction he couldn't stop. He tried to turn a deaf ear to the sheer arousal of Tan-Sun's groans, knew it would fail.  _Better get this over with,_ he thought bitterly,  _all I need is blackmail. Nothing more. I don't want to get anything else out of this._ He gave one hard squeeze, and Tan-Sun came with a desperate cry, arching back against him. Bond stepped away, and Tan-Sun sank to his knees. Bond left him there, spent and desolate, and left the room.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Even late at night, James could still feel that body writhing before him, that voice still echoing in his ears. He gazed over at the spill of moonlight, the silvery stain reminding him of the lighting in the office, where the lack of light had stolen away all colour, until all that remained were shadows, mere etchings of what was true, and the only real thing left were the sounds. The inerasable sensations were wearing on him the most- with the innumerable he'd been with, he'd been distracted, every time, by thoughts of the means he was working towards, by his own manipulation of her, and by the more superficial things, by soft curls and silken fabrics of dancing colours, by shimmering jewels and lacy garments, by giggles that rose along the musical scale, and the array of colour, on her fingernails, eyelids, lips. What he'd craved had been the intensity he'd never before reached, an intensity stripped of all things superficial, until all that was left was the essence of that desire, no distractions, nothing but what he wanted. But in the office… what scared him was how close it had been to that raw intensity. The room drained of colour and light… and all he had to hold onto was the feel of Tan-Sun against him, skin against his hands, hair against his cheek, feeling his shivers and heartbeats and every single breath he took… James closed his eyes, but couldn't rid himself of the feel, the faint scent of cologne, and the sounds, the moans that still whispered through his mind, making him tremble at the memory.  _I'll never do it again,_ he decided, turning his face into the pillow, fingers tightening their grip on the sheet,  _never. I can't fucking live without it… how can I… never. Never._ It was far too dangerous, he told himself, not worth the pleasure derived. He'd hardly done anything, and already the experience was threatening to destroy him. Any more, anything beyond what he'd already done, would be more than an idle threat. Any more, and he'd risk losing the cool detachment that saved him from certain disaster. Destruction would be unstoppable. James turned away from the window, curled up tighter, wished again, with growing desperation, that he had some sort of defense against it.


	4. To call a bluff

 Bond woke to his phone ringing. When swatting it off the nightstand didn't make it stop, just made the ring dull as it screamed against the carpet, he groaned and extended a hand from beneath the blankets to trail his fingertips over the ground, searching for the phone. Lifting it to his eyelevel, he saw that the screen read  _fifty-six missed calls,_ and  _M calling._ He growled and slid the phone open.

"It's  _four AM_ " He'd barely spit out the last word before M interrupted him.

"Bond, I want you to explain to me why the  _hell_ there are  _forty five meetings_ scheduled for today!" M nearly screamed in his ear. The words took several seconds to register.

"Forty five?" Bond stammered. He pulled the comforter up over his head, savoring the last of the warmth he knew he was about to be forced to leave, so he could go trekking across the city.  _Why is he doing this to me?_ He thought vaguely, but the answer was there before he'd finished the question. _Probably irritated about the… that. That's probably it. The bastard._ Thinking about it too much made a certain heat return, and he forced the thoughts away quickly.

"Yes! He scheduled forty-five meetings for today. And would you like to know the best part?" She raged on before he could so much as take a breath, "he sent us the schedule! Every fifteen minutes, another meeting! He sent us this tidy little chart with the names x'd out, and there are  _forty five."_

The chart had been unnecessary, Bond thought with a dull anger. Tan-Sun was mocking him now. Flat-out mocking him. Payback for pleasuring, he supposed.

"Am I expected to stop every single one of these?"

"I should dearly hope you know what's expected of you by now."

"Damn" he was unable to stop the hiss of obscenity, throwing back the covers and getting out of bed.

"Language, Bond." M shot at him. He snapped the phone shut as a response, resisted hurling it across the room, and ran to get dressed, cursing Tan-Sun in his mind the entire time.

A small part of his mind was thinking something very different, but he ignored that, focusing all his attention on the angry, bitter voice that was considerably easier to listen to. Anger had always been easier. Distance hurt less, and bitterness left fewer scars. All things considered, he'd rather listen to the scathing, icy rant of the voice in his head, because listening to the soft murmur of the voice that was from his heart, not his head, never turned out well.

He didn't get where he was by listening to his emotions.

0o0o0o0o0

Bond didn't stop all forty-five meetings. He hadn't even thought Tan-Sun would seriously take on forty-five meetings, but sure enough, one after another was knocked off the list, more diamonds sold. Bond was a failure as far as calling bluffs went, because Tan-Sun had been dead serious. To call someone's bluff, Bond realized, it was necessary to know the person fairly well. And that certainly was not the case with Tan-Sun.

Bond had decided to work his way backward on the list, and at the same time, target all that were in a similar location, so by the time the schedule caught up with him, he'd put a stop to twenty-six meetings that were supposed to happen. It was five o'clock- every meeting that could have been stopped had been stopped, and the rest, he'd been forced to allow to proceed. Bond was at the café where the final meeting was to take place, and he couldn't stop it, as he hadn't known where Tan-Sun was, and the customer was already there. Killing him would have been a messy, indiscreet affair. He'd slashed the man's tires just for the hell of it, but short of throwing a chair at the man, nothing could stop the meeting, short of the type of action M called "obvious" with a definite note of despise.

Bond sat at one of the outdoor tables a short ways away, tucking the small pocketknife into his pocket. Slashing tires was one of the most effective ways; he'd taken to destroying locks as well. Besides that method, he also had a growing collection of cell phones in his car, all destroyed beyond repair, or tracking.

As he watched, Tan-Sun joined the customer at the table. The colonel looked much more composed than when Bond had last seen him. He wore a similar white button-up shirt, and Bond's gaze lingered over the same buttons his own fingers had spirited over, undoing quickly. Tan-Sun hadn't noticed him yet, deep in conversation with the buyer, papers being flipped and charts consulted. The buyer was hesitating. Tan-Sun ran a hand through his black hair, although it still fell back into his eyes, and betrayed no other sign of anxiety. Eventually, though, the buyer smiled and signed a paper. About five minutes passed before Tan-Sun's gaze rose just enough that he saw Bond watching them. The look was something between shock and humiliation, and it was rather satisfying to Bond. The slight blush wasn't a bad touch, either.

Casually, fully aware he was under Tan-Sun's close watch, Bond took the knife from his pocket and turned it over in his palm. This earned him a sharp glare- Tan-Sun was now aware that the rest of his schedule had been cleared- and Bond shook his head before standing up and returning to his car.

He took care, however, to stop by Tan-Sun's car and deposit all the shattered cell phones on the front seat, along with a note he knew would have been prime evidence for any case against him… but he knew, with a certainty that surpassed anything else, that Tan-Sun wouldn't dare to show anyone.

_Tan-Sun,_

_Fuck with me again, and I'll fuck you for real next time._

_Love, James._

In truth, the payback for future attacks by Tan-Sun would be something that would be heavy blackmail for the both of them.

Bond only hoped Tan-Sun wouldn't call his bluff.

 

 


	5. Drawing dangerous conclusions

Bond had just turned on the shower, so he didn't hear the door open. If he had, he would have felt first a violent sort of fear, and then, shortly afterwards, a burning embarrassment, as all he wore were black boxers. But he kept his back to the door, completely oblivious as Tan-Sun, pleased with the degree to which he'd found Bond defenseless, approached him. Bond had no reaction time, as Tan-Sun shoved him around, the suddenness of the movement making Bond flinch, and held him back against the wall.

"I'd ask how you got in," Bond growled, glaring at Tan-Sun, "but it'd be a foolish question."

"Yes. It would be." Tan-Sun had his thumb resting on the pressure point behind Bond's ear, waiting patiently. A satisfied smirk graced his face. "I think," he said softly, running his thumb in gentle circles, an action that reminded Bond strongly what it must feel like to be circled by a beautiful, purring, and dangerously irritated tiger, the other hand holding Bond's bare shoulder against the wall, "you should stop following me. It's rather a nuisance."

"I'm not…." Bond started to argue, but fell silent when Tan-Sun pressed him back against the wall.

"I'm sure. You just happened to be where I was… every single day… for the past two weeks. And, in case you've forgotten, yesterday disrupted a great many of the meetings I arranged for myself."

"I underestimated you." Bond conceded, almost without thinking. Tan-Sun's breaths against his throat had an almost dizzying effect.

"Yes you did." Tan-Sun confirmed, his breath on Bond's ear teasing a shiver as he pushed Bond around the wall, back the few steps until they were in the shower, Bond's back against the cold tile wall, the warm spray of water licking at them. And in doing so, Tan-Sun seemed to notice the effect he was having. It crossed Bond's mind to get away, but then he felt Tan-Sun's fingers trailed down his chest, downward-bound, and all else was lost. "Come on" Tan-Sun whispered in his ear, dangerously close, "give me something to blackmail you with."

"No," Bond ground out through his teeth, "never." Tan-Sun just laughed, a response that alarmed Bond.  _What does he think he can do that will-_ Bond's thoughts were shattered when he felt a hand close around him. He thrust against it, silently cursing himself for reacting, while his mind screamed with pleasure that threatened to escape. He tried to jerk away, succeeding only in coming within reach of the spray of water, and Tan-Sun followed him. His white button-up shirt clung to his lanky frame, outlining the muscles of his abdomen as he leaned closer to Bond, running his tongue along Bond's jaw line in a manner most unfortunately evocative. James moaned as Tan-Sun's other hand closed around him as well, squeezing generously, provoking Bond to thrust against him harder. A groan escaped him as he writhed under Tan-Sun's hands, pressed back against the tile wall, water streaming down from the shower.

"Never" Tan-Sun scoffed his earlier words, rubbing against him to elicit a deeper moan. James clenched his teeth, trying to force his scattered thoughts into comprehending  _why_ Tan-Sun could bring forth such a response from him when none of the women he'd been with before had come even close. But unfortunately- or, perhaps, fortunately- his mind refused to comply. He didn't care how or why, he just wanted him  _not to stop._  He didn't  _care_ how unsettling the thought was, didn't want to think about the inevitable breakdown that would follow such a helpless desperation, such a yielding of control, he just wanted this never to end. Water dripped down the side of his face, down his chest, and Tan-Sun pushed Bond's soaking wet hair out of his eyes and kissed him hard. "How wrong you are."

"Don't-" Bond gasped out, feeling his usually iron grip on control loosening, fast, faster, " _why_ -"

"Why?" Tan-Sun laughed, shiver-inducing as he licked Bond's earlobe, his dark eyes bright with devilish amusement "because I prefer this to shooting you, that's why. And I believe you'll be a little easier to handle after  _this._ People get so nasty after being shot at." Another kiss, followed by an increase of pressure that was painfully addictive and made Bond cry out in raw desperation, "and I don't trust you to have the ability to blackmail me when I have nothing on you." Bond was hardly listening, all his attention focused on Tan-Sun's delirium-inducing movements. Without thinking, Bond slid his arms around Tan-Sun, pulling him closer, which, in turn, made Tan-Sun's hands speed up. Bond's fingers slid over the soaked shirt, unable to hook a grip, as Tan-Sun drew a moan from his lips. A ghost of apprehension crossed his mind, aware that he was giving in faster and more than Tan-Sun had, but he didn't care much.

"Fine" Bond growled at last, clinging to Tan-Sun tighter, "have something on me. I don't fucking care." Even as the words left his lips, he bucked desperately into the other man's hands with a shuddering moan.

"Sure you don't" Tan-Sun purred, grinding against him to a groan, "maybe not like that, but you care."

"Fuck you." Bond snarled, turning his face into Tan-Sun's neck, thrusting harder with a deep groan.

"Oh?" Tan-Sun whispered in his ear, "Not unless you fuck me first. Does this count as fucking with you?" James realized he'd lost some sort of grip, as the snarling curses seemed, to his ear, far sweeter than they should have been. One hard, hard squeeze and James came with a near scream. Tan-Sun stepped away out of the shower, pausing only to grab a towel to dry off his hair, and left the bathroom. James slid down the wall to crouch beneath the spray of water with his head in his hands, as water droplets fell down his face until his tears were lost among them.

0o0o0o0o

The last thing Bond had wanted was to see Tan-Sun again so soon, but M had insisted, and then sent him straight to the main office compound. Upon entering, Bond received a glare from the man standing by the door.

"Check him." The man snapped, and before Bond could reply, he felt a hand skim over his pockets, of his jacket and pants, and then, letting him know it was Tan-Sun who'd taken it upon himself to do the frisking, between his legs, slid higher than necessary. Reminding him that the control- or more like, the lack thereof- was mutual. Bond, though, was in enemy territory, something he didn't take to well.

He followed Tan-Sun down a corridor, ignoring the ghost of a smirk he saw on the man's face, into a room with a high table and three chairs. General Moon sat across from the two, watching gravely as they entered.

As soon as James sank into the chair beside Tan-Sun, across from the General at the wood table, he decided to steal a power play as soon as possible.

"I understand you are here to make a request." The General said slowly. Bond nodded.

"A re-" Tan-Sun started to scoff in disbelief, but Bond chose that very moment to snatch back control. Invisible to the General, Bond slid his hand over to Tan-Sun's lap, to the junction between two legs, rubbing slowly. The clench of Tan-Sun's jaw alerted him to the fact that the pleasure he was delivering was infuriating, as well as addictive. Precisely his desired result, of course.

"Yes, General Moon. MI6 would like to… request…" he said the word as if tasting it, and the slight smirk on his face said that it had an amusing quality, "that you sell your diamond mines."

"And why would we do this?" the General asked. Bond saw that the hothead beside him was about to add something, which would doubtlessly not help, so Bond accordingly moved his hand a touch faster. Tan-Sun fell instantly silent, sullen look on his face.

"We believe it would be in your best interests" A barely disguised threat. The General lifted his chin, glared straight at Bond.

"Thank you for your advice" he said in a voice that was beyond stone cold, "but we will continue as we are. But to show my gratitude, I will offer to sell to you" He nodded to Tan-Sun, "show him the offer." Tan-Sun beckoned for Bond to follow him, standing up quickly. Bond noticed the look of relief mixed with regret on Tan-Sun's face as he stepped away. Bond followed him out of the office room, and down a bare hallway, into an office.

After that, Bond wasn't quite sure what happened. The moment the door closed them, leaving them alone in the office, Bond had shoved Tan-Sun against the door and pressed a hard kiss to his lips. He'd decided that, after being reduced senseless by Tan-Sun, their methods of persuasion, however dangerous to himself, were the most effective.

He'd have his emotional breakdown later; at the moment, he was 007, and he wanted what he needed.

"We're not buying anything" He hissed a few seconds later, receiving a look from Tan-Sun, that he wasn't quite sure how to interpret. Tan-Sun stepped away from the door, stalking away a couple steps, "we know why you're selling to who you do. MI6 does not fund this sort of operation." Tan-Sun shot a glare over his shoulder. The reverse in conduct from MI6 hadn't surprised either, and the pleasantries were just a mask over threat. "We won't buy." At this, Tan-Sun spun back around, the look on his face one between scorn and amusement.

"What the fuck do I care?" Tan-Sun snarled, with a derisive laugh, "buy or don't buy whatever the hell you want."

"Which is exactly why you're in the corporation, right?" Bond said sarcastically. Tan-Sun sent a snubbing sort of expression at him, and then, in one swift movement, had slammed him back against the wall and crushed his lips against Bond's. Ten breathless seconds ensued, through which Bond's hands roamed over Tan-Sun, inviting him further.

At the eleventh second, though, Tan-Sun jerked back.

"What the fuck are we doing?" he snapped, looking away. "This is ridiculous."

"Yes." Bond, however, had decided that some things were more important than others; decency and principles had lost the fight. He stepped forward, under Tan-Sun's wary gaze, approaching the man from the side. "Ridiculous. I couldn't agree more." He leaned forward and pressed a kiss behind Tan-Sun's ear, a spot he knew full well was highly sensitive. This teased a shiver, and Bond knew exactly how he would have proceeded to get a moan, if he'd so wanted. Before Tan-Sun could reply, Bond had stepped away again, giving him a look. "Now tell me you don't like it." Tan-Sun clenched his teeth, but didn't say anything.

"Do that one more time," he began in a low, warning tone, "and I'll-"

"What?" Bond sneered, drawing closer. This earned him an angry glare, and Tan-Sun closed the space between them again.  _If looks could kill,_ Bond thought with a wisp of amusement,  _we never would have started with this eroticism._

"Get even" he growled, covering Bond's mouth with his own and grinding his hips against him. The strangled moan he earned himself brought a smirk. "Retaliation, Bond. Let's not forget that we're  _both_ capable of that."

So he was nearing the conclusion James hoped desperately he wouldn't ever come to. The moment Tan-Sun realized what he could do to James was the same moment James lost part of himself.

He couldn't rightly say it was a part he wanted to keep, because invincibility had a way of being concerning, but at least he could say that, for the time being, he needed it.

0o0o0o0o

James wasn't sure if it was good news or bad news, but M had orchestrated the capture of Tan-Sun, and he was currently handcuffed and sitting in the all-but empty room next to the one M and Bond were in.

"He hasn't said  _any_ thing?" Bond asked finally. M hardly afforded him a look, remaining in her chair, looking down at a laptop.

"Nothing."

"I find it hard to believe that our best interrogators can't get him to-" James began, and his tone was perhaps a smidge too heated for M to let go unchecked.

"You interrogate him," M said flatly, in a no-discussion-welcome tone. "Seeing as you did so well before, we can't afford any mistakes." Bond drew in a breath, gave her the chance to retract her command. When she didn't, he walked out of the room. He stood staring at the blank door for a few long moments. It had been a week since he'd seen Tan-Sun, a shuddering, unstable week.

Tan-Sun was sitting before the table in the center of the room, hands handcuffed before him. He looked up when Bond entered, black eyes fixed on him. Bond came up to stand before the table, hands in his pockets. Staring at him, he found it hard to remember the crimes the man had helped to commit, remembering only his moans of pleasure in the dark of the office, the feel of his skin against Bond's lips, how Tan-Sun fit into his arms. Remembering his own cries echoing in the shower, Tan-Sun's hands on him, his voice making Bond shiver, driving him insane with pleasure. His ever-quickening touch, snarling curses, moans of pleasure. It took a conscious effort to recall even the glimmer of diamonds.

"Are you going to lie to me?" Bond demanded. Tan-Sun remained motionless.

"If I did, I find it hard to believe you'd keep certain information private." The mockery in his tone, although just a faint pulse beneath the surface, was detectable. He had return blackmail. Bond had yet to tell him that if they were going to compare their blackmail arsenal, Tan-Sun would lose. Bond was known for his self-indulgence by way of touch. Hardly a mission passed where he didn't resort to seduction over shooting. He doubted anyone would be surprised he'd resorted to such with Tan-Sun.

Tan-Sun, though, didn't know that while his blackmail was nearly useless, his power was unmatched. Bond shuddered to think of what Tan-Sun could do to him. James had survived torture without talking- he wouldn't bet on his stamina at the hands of Tan-Sun.

His own blackmail against Tan-Sun was substantial enough to reassure him. He proceeded. "Why are you involved with this?" Bond asked softly. He couldn't,  _couldn't,_ believe that the man, with that desperate moan and shiver-inducing touch, could have become involved voluntarily.

"I have nothing else." Tan-Sun wouldn't look at him, glaring down at his handcuffs instead. As he moved his hands, they caught the dull light and reflected it back. "My father started the corporation." Bond let him fall silent. He glanced back at the window, then up at the camera. It was off. Then he leaned forward, hands on the tabletop.

"Would you get out if you could?" he asked in a low voice. Tan-Sun looked up, the astonishment in his eyes clear.

"Yes." Then he hung his head. "I have no way out." Bond pondered that.

"Why should I believe you?" he asked. Tan-Sun laughed, shaking his head.

"Why would I lie to the one man capable of blackmailing me?" his face turned serious, "You could get me thrown out of the corporation. Possibly worse. And-" but he fell silent, refusing to say any more. James knew how he would personally end the sentence, but he doubted that Tan-Sun would consider deprivation of their dangerous seduction techniques life-threatening. Bond glowered, but nothing could make Tan-Sun speak his mind.

"So if you don't want to be here, why stay?" he asked. Tan-Sun raised his gaze briefly.

"My father wants to pass the company down to me. I have no choice." He said simply.

 _I can be your escape,_ Bond's eyes said, although Tan-Sun couldn't read it, and was left hopeless and desolate.

Bond left him then.

M looked up when he came back into the room, and her expectation of something useful was clear. Bond merely stood just inside the doorway, watching her.

"We should release him" Bond said simply. "He'll come back."

"If you'll recall," M said dryly, "Negotiations did not go smoothly last time. As I recall, we came away with nothing." Bond wandered over to the window, to look out at the flat grounds surrounding the building.

"Let him go" Bond insisted quietly, blue eyes focused on some undefined point far in the distance, "I know what he's doing."

"And what might that be?" M's voice was almost snappish with impatience. Bond didn't turn.

"Concluding," he finally murmured, "He's concluding."

Sometimes, M wondered if Bond himself understood his thoughts.

 


	6. To believe wholeheartedly

 Bond could tell M was doubting his rationale. Tan-Sun had yet to make any drastic moves, or any action at all, so M was snubbing him, making no calls, leaving no messages, just giving Bond the false freedom of silence, one that warned him what would happen if he were to be wrong.

One week passed, no evidence offered to prove that Tan-Sun even existed anymore.

By Thursday, if only to allay his own concerns, Bond had found his way back to the military compound, late in the night. The corridor was empty, and every door he passed leaked no light. Tan-Sun's office was cold and dark, void of movement. As Bond was closing the door again, however, a voice made him flinch.

"I don't care what his own agenda is!" General Moon's angry yell was audible even down the hallway, six doors down. Bond released the doorknob slowly, looking towards the sound that emitted from behind another closed door. "Find Tan-Sun! Find him  _now!"_

"General, I…" a meek voice offered. The sound of a book being slammed down echoed out of the office.

"Find him! He can _not_ have just  _disappeared,_ so stop finding excuses for him! Find him  _immediately._ He has  _no_ excuse to have disappeared, nor do you have one for failing to find him! _"_ A soft murmur of something like protest followed, "Your excuses fail to persuade me. I don't know where my son is, but unless he returns in an increasingly shorter period of time, he will be no son of mine. I do  _not_ want someone with such access to this corporation _missing!"_

Bond slunk away, unsure of whether the news was bad for the North Koreans, or worse for MI6.

He didn't stop to think about himself; the results of that were never reassuring.

0o0o0o00o0o0o

"Gone." M said hollowly when he'd reported the news. "My God, you can't be serious."

"The General was furious about it. He's just… gone." Bond watched her, all stoicism, hands in his pockets. M leveled her gaze with his, fingers drumming on the desk.

"Then I suggest you get home immediately." The tight voice left no room for interpretation. She didn't have to tell him that another agent would be given the mission. Didn't have to tell him he'd been wrong. He lingered at the door, the desire to clear his name pushing him almost to speak.  _I swear I know him,_ he wanted to throw at her until she understood,  _I don't think he'd do this, I don't, I really don't. He's not the sort to do this._ But his words would be backed by nothing but inexplicably passionate feeling, and would receive only a suspicious look of disbelief. He bit his tongue and slipped out of the office.

What Bond didn't know was that M deserved far more credit than he gave her. She knew what he wanted to say. She may not have known why Bond was so certain about the subject, but she could tell, she could  _see,_ that somewhere along the line, Bond had found something to hold onto, and to let go would, in his eyes, be a catastrophic admittance of defeat. Watching his barely-contained seething anger, she could tell that he'd truly believed Tan-Sun would return. He'd believed it wholeheartedly, something she hadn't thought him capable of any longer. Something so sure it was able to remind her that Bond had a heart, M believed, could not be false. Tan-Sun would return, Bond had promised.

But until then, all she could do was send him home.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

The multiple-hour plane trip offered Bond ample time to think, something he wanted none of. He sunk down in the first class seat, staring out the window at the darkening sky. Tan-Sun's disappearance was disastrous for MI6, that much was true. But the thought that he would never see Tan-Sun again…

 _I shouldn't care._ The sky was slowly darkening to a distant black, and he could see his reflection in the small window. The darkness looming outside offered no distraction, though, something he craved.  _I shouldn't care beyond a professional level, I shouldn't know…_ he closed his eyes, drawing in a breath,  _I shouldn't know that there's a sensitive spot behind his ear, shouldn't know that a shiver comes before his moan, shouldn't know the minute differences between his angry snarl and his aroused one, shouldn't, shouldn't, shouldn't._

And the painfully brief time spent with him, moments devoid of light and frivolity, stripped of anything dismissible until all that was left was the screaming, desperate need, an intensity that almost scared him away, and yet, had a draw so addictive, it seduced him in and left him brokenly alone when he was pushed away.

There were very few hard lines in Bond's world- everyone was a potential threat, everywhere was a potential target, and every rule had an exception. But the most distinct, possibly the only truly drawn line was the one between business and personal, and was one easily crossed, and the most dangerous. He knew that his methods had shoved him, stumbling and vulnerable, across that line, so far he wouldn't ever be able to find his way back across. He'd toed that line before, seducing women he was to extract information from. He'd relied on what he'd thought to be uncompromisingly shielded emotions to keep him aloof from the encounters. And he'd prided himself on his ability to let every women be just another interchangeable fuck. After the first few times, he'd even been able to think of them in so detached a fashion. When he paused to consider it, he could half admit that the stoicism alarmed him, that he'd felt his emotions slipping away from him until he had few left. But he hadn't changed that, because it was safer that way. Tan-Sun, though, had proved to him that not only did he have emotions, but that they were still wildly susceptible to change. In short, regarding the affair with Tan-Sun, crossing that line was the most dangerous mistake he could have made.

Perhaps it was for the better that Tan-Sun had vanished.

It left James feeling strangely empty and shaken, but it was better.

 

 


	7. The sheer audacity of it all

The apartment building appeared empty in the moonlight, the cool wash of three AM that seemed to pull back to midnight, the cold and the dark. The windows reflected nothing, revealed nothing, and it was too easy to blur the image and see a hotel, anywhere. Bond found himself bothered by this, far more than usual, and attributed it to exhaustion and nothing else. He'd taken the first flight out, the duration of which had been riddled by thoughts that refused to be silenced, enough so that arriving to a dark, impersonal apartment almost appeared desirable.

Dark, however, should have been darker. Bond stared down at the light seeping from under the apartment door, his mind, over-tuned machine of escape and attack that it was, already simultaneously analyzing methods of entry as well as possibilities as to what he would encounter. He edged the door open, gun leading, and the first thing he noticed was that the intruder was cooking.

Cooking  _well._

That fact did little more than irritate him further; the audacity, that someone would  _break in,_ and  _ridicule_ him... Bond had no culinary talent, was something of a disaster in the kitchen. He was unfamiliar with the entire apartment, the kitchen most of all. The sight he was presented with was enough to stop his breathing entirely.

Tan-Sun was standing at the island counter, eating something he'd cooked and staring off into space. MI6 had nearly searched the  _world over_  for Tan-Sun, and to find him here... Bond's sharp intake of breath made Tan-Sun glance over, and he beckoned for Bond to sit at one of the counter stools across from him.

Audacity. Bond had always preferred blunt enemies. They were far easier to distance himself from.

"Forgive me for the ridiculous question, but what the  _hell_ are you doing here?"

"I think that's rather obvious." Tan-Sun shook his head, as the words  _the audacity of that bastard_ crossed Bond's mind yet again, "I'm hiding."

"Right." Bond lowered his gun, finger staying curled over the trigger. "That's fairly obvious. You aren't very good at it, are you?"

"I'm not hiding from you."

"You really  _aren't_  very good at this, are you?" Bond just glared when Tan-Sun smiled.

"We're not playing the same game, Bond. I'm hiding from them. If I were hiding from  _you,_ I would at  _least_ have had the foresight to hide under the couch."

"If that's all you want, you could have hidden in M's office, too. She's less liable to shoot you."

"If you're that eager to get a bullet in me, I suggest you shoot me in the leg or something. I doubt M would be happy to find me dead." Tan-Sun shrugged, "although the blood would be something of a bother. Then again, your kitchen is pitiful anyways."

"Not one of my concerns."

"So I gathered." The casual behaviour was wearing on Bond's nerves. "I figured this beats hiding in the compound garage. The farther away the better. And if there's one place I'd never go, it's here." Bond watched the long fingers tapping against the counter top, then looked up to scan Tan-Sun's face. The enviously chiseled features showed no anxiety.

"And you trust I won't pose more of a threat to you."

Tan-Sun shrugged a shoulder at Bond's remark. "A risk I'm willing to take."

"Rather impetuous of you."

"True." Tan-Sun ignored Bond's glare and wandered into the sitting room. "How perfectly charming," he drawled, "they do say impersonal is the new black." Bond drew in a breath, held it and counted to ten. "The photographs are a nice touch, if lacking human subjects. Did they come with the frames?"

"If all you're going to do is mock my apartment," Bond growled, stalking to the doorway, "perhaps you would be better off in the compound garage." Tan-Sun; sitting in the centre of the couch with his laptop open before him; looked over his shoulder at Bond.

"The décor would certainly be better," he shrugged, turned back to the screen. Bond remained in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, surveying the room. He found himself wishing his apartment had more furniture. The couch wasn't nearly suitable; the armchairs, of course, wouldn't do; the floor didn't appear to be all that comfortable; the table was laughable. And that was the extent of the furniture.

"What is so utterly fascinating?" Tan-Sun had been watching him for some time, Bond noticed too late. He slung an arm across the back of the couch, staring at Bond unwaveringly.

"A… er…." Bond bit his lip; delicate phrasing was not his forte. "nothing." Tan-Sun arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. Bond wandered out of the room, but returned a minute later, having found nothing to help him. "It would seem…" he began hesitantly. Tan-Sun looked at him expressionlessly, "If you're to be staying here, I suppose you'll want somewhere to sleep."

"Nowhere else, hmm? Not a problem." He smiled wolfishly. Bond scowled.

"The floor it is."

Despite everything, when woken at sunrise by Tan-Sun climbing into the bed, Bond did nothing but allow Tan-Sun's embrace to envelope him, in a warmth unfamiliar and impossible.

0o0o0o0o0o

Bond woke to emptiness in Tan-Sun's place, wrapped in nothing but cold silence. His absence momentarily set off internal alarms, but the clattering of a chair in the kitchen quieted them. He found Tan-Sun in the kitchen, holding the Bond's phone in one hand and half a bagel in the other.

"It would seem that your phone book is in Russian," Tan-Sun said dryly, not looking over, "security precaution?"

"Yes."

"You speak Russian?"

"Don't you?"

"Hilarious," Tan-Sun grumbled. Bond shrugged, distracted by the fact that there was a plate with a bagel and a cup of tea sitting on the counter, clearly meant for him. "The number? Or would you rather I dial every person in here?" Bond rattled off the number absent-mindedly, taking a seat. "Good morning. This is Tan-Sun Moon." Tan-Sun spoke into the phone, "I just wanted to inform you that I am, at the moment, in 007's kitchen."

Bond could just barely hear M's voice, saying, "excuse me?"

"I merely wanted you to be fully aware of this fact." He listened for a moment, then held the phone out to Bond. "She would like confirmation that you are not being held captive. I appreciate her confidence in me, but the accusation is slightly ridiculous, given the situation." Bond arched an eyebrow and took the phone.

"Yes?"

"Moon is in your apartment?" M's words laid an assault to his ear in their volume. He cringed, holding the phone a few inches away.

"Yes."

"So you are aware. Tell me you're not being held hostage."

"I am not being held captive," he confirmed, glowering when Tan-Sun snickered. "I highly doubt he would be capable of such."

"Don't doubt me," Tan-Sun warned, and Bond just rolled his eyes.

"Fine," M was saying, "let me speak with him. I will set some ground rules. Surveillance will be arranged."

"Of course." Bond handed the phone back over. He mostly tuned out the argument, only hearing Tan-Sun's occasional outbursts.

"It's not trespassing," Tan-Sun protested, "it's self-invitation. Clearly very different." Another pause. "I really don't think breaking and entry is our main concern here." Bond took his breakfast and wandered into the living room to flip through channels aimlessly as Tan-Sun talked in the kitchen. When Tan-Sun walked into the room, he handed the phone to Bond without a word.

"M say anything important?" Bond asked. Tan-Sun looked almost rattled, if such a thing were possible.

"Looks like I've got a trip to Cuba coming up," he said flatly, "some unstarted business to take care of."


End file.
